


How I Say I Love You

by darcymariaphoster



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: AU, Autistic Sherlock, Awkwardness, Cuddling, First Dates, First time holding hands, Fluff, High School, Johnlock Roulette, M/M, Teenlock, a tad bit of angst, slight mentions of possible homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-20
Updated: 2015-05-20
Packaged: 2018-03-31 09:57:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3973780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darcymariaphoster/pseuds/darcymariaphoster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How did I meet John Watson? Well, it’s a painfully boring story, to be honest. It’s so magnificently boring and ordinary. But, oddly, it’s his favourite story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How I Say I Love You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Keroanne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keroanne/gifts).



> ~~ are timeskips within the narrative.
> 
> ** ends the narrative.
> 
> Watch for them and it will be explained.

How did I meet John Watson? Well, it’s a painfully boring story, to be honest. It’s so magnificently boring and ordinary. But, oddly, it’s his favourite story. The unembellished version, I might add. He hates it when I retell the story because I like to make it more interesting. This is retelling it for him, though, so I won’t be anything except blunt.

 

We were both in secondary school, though we did not attend the same one. I was invited to a friend’s house for a Christmas party that I almost did not accept. But the idea of making friends was too enticing and I let Greg, my only friend at the time, drag me to the get-together. It was rather mind-numbing; there was only a handful of us and most of them chattered away at each other about nonsense I didn’t even try to comprehend.

 

Over the course of my seventeen years of existence, I had made myself rather unapproachable. It was partially on accident, and partially on purpose. I had known that my Autism would startle people away; Mother and Mycroft always reminded me of this so that it would never come as a surprise. But I had also made sure that those who didn’t mind my obsessive thinking and thoughtlessness would be kept an arm’s length away. People were irritating and I did not want to deal with the hassle that would inevitably come when I got bored of them and told them so.

 

Greg was my exception. For some reason beyond me, he had accepted every part of who I was and continued to be my friend. Even when I told him harshly that I did not want to talk to him and that everything he said was stupid, he simply pursed his lips and gave me space until I was ready to talk to him again. Over and over. Not that he didn’t sometimes retaliate, because he did. There were days when he told me everything he thought was wrong with me, like it was a relief to say it all. He would always apologise upon reflection, even if it took a day or two.

 

He once explained to me that the hurt I initially felt when he did this was similar, if not exactly the same, as what he felt when I berated him. He explained this twice before it stuck and I accepted it. I quietly apologised for past and future remarks and we both understood that it wouldn’t stop either of us. I took the sting when he yelled at me and reminded myself that I deserved it sometimes because I had made him feel similar before. It was an odd sort of thing that we dealt with.

 

I was not surprised, therefore, when very few of the people at the party talked to me. I sat on the couch for most of it, staying quiet but attempting to look like I didn’t dislike everyone in the room. I wanted to look open, like I wanted people to approach me for conversation. No one did. Greg spent a considerable amount of his time talking at me between being dragged in different directions by various people.

 

It wasn’t until we were sitting in a circle, playing some dumb version of Truth-or-Dare, that I noticed him. He sat with his body angled as though anticipating a need for escape, awkward and quiet. He easily blended into the background. Judging by the strain in his smile, it was not something he did on purpose. He had short blond hair and bright blue eyes; he didn’t seem very tall but he wasn’t tiny. He had been practically invisible all night and I was unsure why I was noticing him at all in that moment. What was suddenly so intriguing about him?

 

He caught me staring at him once and smiled shyly at me. I twitched my lips in response.

 

I didn’t have a chance to talk to him until later in the night when I got to ask him what his name was. I felt heat rising in my face as I approached him timidly and muttered, “Hello…”

 

He grinned at me, turning to face me. “Hello,” he answered quietly. He waited a beat for me collect myself but, after I was still unable to ask him anything, he swooped in to save me. “I’m John Watson. How are you?”

 

“My name is Sherlock Holmes,” I told him, grateful for his supply of conversation. “Good, I suppose…”

 

“You suppose?” John inquired, quirking a brow. For seeming so invisible and awkward, he was doing a fantastic job at keeping my attention.

 

I nodded and thought about my response. “I don’t deal with parties very well. They’re a bit overwhelming.”

 

John glanced at the scattered groups of people around the room and frowned. “These guys are a bit overwhelming, I’ll give you that. But it’s a good way to meet new people.” I made a noncommittal sound in the back of my throat that captured his attention once more. “Do you go to Bethnal?” he probed, obviously trying to keep the flow.

 

I shook my head this time. “No, I go to Central Foundation…” Being that the school I went to was private, and also a boy’s school, I worried that it would make me look a bit too pretentious and out of his league.

 

But he just smiled brightly at me and said, “Really? That’s pretty cool. My parents thought about applying to enroll me there but changed their mind. Is it an okay school?” We spent a few minutes chatting about our schools and how they were similar or different and some of the people we’d seen and had to deal with. After about another half hour, Greg tapped me on the shoulder and suggested we head home before an anticipated snowstorm hit. I nodded and he backed off. “So, do you have a facebook?” John inquired before I could follow Greg.

 

“Yes,” I answered and smiled. “I’m not hard to find. I’ll talk to you later, I hope.” Feeling like a great, blushing git, I quickly hurried after Greg.

 

~~

 

The friend’s request came the following day and I greedily searched his page to obtain more information about him. I sat on my laptop in the family room, ignoring everyone as we started messaging each other on Facebook. I did my best to learn as much about him as I could over the next few weeks and he seemed to be pressed to do the same. Then, one day, he invited me to the Chinese New Year festival his school was hosting. Eager to see him again, I accepted the invitation but immediately texted Greg to make sure he’d go with me.

 

I was nervous. Making friends was not my forte but this was worse. I was diving headfirst into a relationship, or attempting to. It was a scary thing for me. When Greg and I got there, we found a place to sit in the gymnasium to watch the main performance about how the Zodiac animals came to be. I didn’t absorb as much as I’d have liked as Greg kept up a constant stream of hissing the entire time: “You think he’s cute”; “Are you going to ask him out?”; “You need to ask him out”; “Don’t be a baby, Sherlock.”

 

The performance was almost over when he finally shut up and I enjoyed the last little bit of it. It didn’t last long, of course. Silence was not Greg’s strong suit and as soon as the performance was over and the gym started clearing out, he went back to it. “Greg, please be quiet. I’m focusing.”

 

“Not enough,” he quipped and steered me toward some booths. “Or else you’d know where to be walking already.” I looked up and attempted to dig my heels into the tile. “Don’t be shy. You’ve already started, no point in backing out now.”

 

He stopped shoving me when we were in line. “You have no idea how much I dislike you right now. Absolutely none.” He only grinned widely and chatted about I wasn’t even sure what until we arrived at the table. John peeked up at me brightly. “Hello…” I mumbled, shifting uncomfortably as Greg turned his attention to the girl sitting next to John.

 

“Hey,” he answered cheerfully. “What did you think of the performance?” He stared up at me earnestly and I knew I had to get back at Greg for his ignorance.

 

I smiled briefly at him. “It was good. Interesting legend…” I finally answered, but quickly followed it with, “So, what are we doing here?” I clasped my hands in front of me and peered down at the papers scattered across the table.

 

“Oh!” John quickly glanced down as well and asked, “What year were you born in?”

 

“Er, nineteen-ninety-three,” I answered uncertainly, eyeing the papers with more wariness than probably necessary. John grabbed a paper and flipped it over, writing something in Chinese characters. He happily handed it over and I blinked, taking it. “What does it say?”

 

John leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “It’s your name. I had to really think about that one. Your name is so unique and the characters are really pretty, in my opinion, anyway…” He trailed off, blushing lightly.

 

I looked down at the paper again and nodded. “They are pretty… Thank-you.” This time, when I smiled at him, there was very little hesitation. “Why did you decide to take Chinese?”

 

“They didn’t offer a Japanese course,” John replied with a laugh, leaning back in his chair again. “Also, it’s interesting. I got to learn about their culture and history along with the language. I don’t regret it at all.”

 

I chuckled a little and then glanced over my shoulder. There weren’t a lot of people behind me but enough to make me think twice about hovering much longer. I turned back to John and sighed, “I think I best be moving on. We’ll meet up again tonight?”

 

He looked momentarily startled. “Yeah. I mean, if you want to stay. I’ve got to stay here for another twenty or so minutes but if you’re still hanging around, I’ll find you.”

 

“Please do,” I answered and hoped I didn’t sound too eager. It was my turn to drag Greg off to find other things to occupy our time while we waited. Greg did his best to engage me in some jokes but thankfully did not press about whether or not I’d asked John out. I was wondering if I could by the end of the night. Wouldn’t it be something if I could? If I could actually hold onto the nerve and the communication skills I needed just long enough to ask him on a date? I contemplated the ways I could bring it up and all the “what ifs” I could imagine.

 

In the end, I did not ask him out. I felt deprived of time when we left that night. The time spent in his presence had not been long enough and I needed more. The positive note of the night, however, was that we did exchange numbers. I then had the opportunity to text him as many times as I wanted. We had many interesting conversations over the next few weeks.

 

Most of the conversations have slipped my mind by this point. They were more than likely made up of “getting to know each other” chit-chat. But I do recall a particular night, not that I can bring to mind the exact date of it.

 

I had gone out to get ice cream with my family and we were sitting in the parlour, devouring the treat. I was texting John and Greg and otherwise feigning being antisocial. John’s messages held a certain discouraged note to them and I finally had to ask what was wrong as our conversation was getting irritatingly dull.

 

It took only a little bit of encouragement for him to cave. In a moment of desperation and vulnerability, he told me that he was afraid. With graduation creeping closer, he feared losing his friends who were all talking of going to college and moving away. He practically begged me not to leave him, asked me to promise him that I wouldn’t forget about him and leave him behind.

 

I did not think twice. I made the promise. _“As long as you want me around, I promise that I’ll never leave you.”_

The pledge, to me, felt both like nothing and everything. It was easy to make the promise because I understood what he felt -- the fear of having no one left -- and I was selfish. I wanted someone who would stay with me after everyone else had vanished. If I kept my promise, I hoped it would be returned and he’d never take me for granted, never walk away either. But it felt like so much more because there was so much room for error. I knew how many times it had been my fault when someone had severed our friendship. My social and communication skills, no matter how hard I tried or how many people attempted to explain them to me, were lacking and I couldn’t fix them. Sometimes, I’d see my mistakes and I’d attempt to follow the path that led away from it. Oftentimes, I made another mistake in that attempt to avoid the first. It was a continually frustrating situation for me and that’s what made the promise such a terrifying thing when I paused to think about it.

 

My father noticed my sudden lack of enthusiasm for my ice cream and asked if everything was alright. I looked up at him blankly and nodded. I couldn’t back out now anyway; John would hate me forever.

 

~~

 

It was several weeks after that when I finally got up the nerve to ask him out. It was over text but, in my opinion, it was still an accomplishment. There were two movie theaters nearby our houses and I intended for us to catch a movie that we’d both wanted to see at the one closest to us. He enthusiastically agreed. However, due to the fact that neither of us had obtained a driver’s license by that point and my father had poor listening skills, we ended up driving to the farthest one before we realised the mistake. He took us back to the closer one but it was too late to get tickets.

 

John suggested that we go to the museum nearby and I grudgingly agreed. It wasn’t what I had planned and it threw a wrench into my brain. I felt something akin to a panic attack boiling beneath my skin. I had planned everything to a T and my father had screwed it up. But I didn’t want to throw a fit in front of John. It had been a good day until that point. So I asked him to wait a moment and sat in the car while I calmed myself down. If the rest of my day was going to go the way I wanted it to, I needed to get going. Time was everything and I was good at schedules. After a moment, I thanked my father and John and I both got out and walked to the museum.

 

Growing up in the area meant that every child had been to this particular museum at least twice before. It was a dinosaur museum and I’d always enjoyed it. Hardly anything about it had changed and I’d been to it four times prior to this visit. Not that I minded. It was still interesting -- more so with John. We wandered in and I paid for our tickets, much to his dismay.

 

Going through each exhibit, we talked about our memories from the times we’d been here and it led us to childhood memories. He told me that he was a vegetarian and had been for about five years. I admitted that I’d wanted to but no one else in my family had and so I’d let it go.

 

“I’m the only one in my family who’s a vegetarian,” John said as we leaned over a railing, looking down into a prehistoric scene where a brontosaurus peered around a leafy tree at us and several compsognathus were running around it’s feet as though fleeing from something else. “It was hard at first but I really love animals. Plus, when you have cows who are being prepared to go to slaughter just behind your house, it makes things just a little easier.”

 

I frowned at that thought. “That sounds awful… The cows, I mean. But are your parents supportive of it?”

 

He shrugged. “Yeah, sort of. They buy me the food I need so I don’t starve.” He laughed lightly and glanced at me. “It’s just my choice. I don’t like the thought of eating another being. How can I own pets, call them my friends, say I love animals -- just to turn around and eat a chicken? I can’t do it. I love all animals, even the creepy and poisonous ones.” I couldn’t help but laugh at that as we carried on.

 

We talked about so much that day, what brought us to the points that we were at and who we were. He told me about how he’d come out to his family as gay and I was curious as to how everyone took it. I hadn’t met his family yet and but I knew they were religious; I wondered if they stood up for him or if they just put up with him. He said that they were typical at first: they denied it, wanted to know where they’d gone wrong, generally struggled with the idea. But his mother had done lots of praying and searching and, gradually, his parents had come to accept him as what he was and even stood up for their support of him. His sister didn’t seem to mind as much but most of his extended family couldn’t fathom it and weren’t nearly as supportive.

 

John asked me about my sexuality and how I’d come to figure it out, if my family knew. Here, I hesitated. I had only recently begun dabbling in the labels that come with sexuality, though I’d done plenty of experimenting when I was younger -- not that I actually understood that that was what I was doing. I had been struggling with figuring out what I was for the past few years and very recently settled on bisexual (though I later discovered that, while under the same umbrella, it was not what I really was). I explained all this to him and eventually admitted that I hadn’t yet told anyone about my sexuality, fearing the retribution of my family. Our date was unofficial to them and simply just friends going out. He peered up at me and I was afraid that he would think that my recent discovery of my sexuality would destroy anything we may have had between us. But he simply assured me that I shouldn’t tell my family if it would make my living situation dangerous.

 

I got us snacks with what little bit of my allowance I had left and we talked more about ourselves, learning as much as we could in what felt like a limited amount of time. I craved him. I wanted to reach out and hold him and never let go and it was ridiculous. Even with all our stories about ourselves and knowing each other’s favourite colours and foods, we hardly knew each other at all. I couldn’t justify jumping in and drowning yet. So I did my best to settle and enjoy simply being in his presence until my father picked us up.

 

The dinosaur museum was always remembered for that particular day after that.

 

~~

 

The rest of that year was a bit of a blur. I spent as much time as reasonably possible between Greg and John, but mostly John. Greg teased me profusely and I did my best to ignore him. I thought things between John and I were going well, all things considered. Although, I had to apologise more to Greg than before. As I did my best to seem “normal” in front of John, I had a lot of pent up frustration that oftentimes got taken out of Greg instead. He said he understood, mostly, but that if I didn’t start being myself around John, there were going to be issues. I knew he was right and decided that I needed to remedy that. If John liked me as much as I hoped, maybe being myself wouldn’t scare him off.

 

One night in February, Greg invited a few people to his house for a movie night. We all huddled in the basement of his house and flicked off all the lights and enjoyed “The Avengers” together. I took my place beside John and did not focus very much on the movie but instead on whether or not I had the guts to take his hand. It wasn’t until over halfway through the movie that I finally managed and he immediately gripped my hand. It was memorable and I felt extremely happy that I’d finally made a move -- and he reciprocated. We stayed like that until the end and a little after while we all chatted about the movie.

 

The commotion was slowly becoming a bit much for me, though, and John seemed to sense it. “I gotta go soon,” he told me, glancing at away from everyone else to look at me. “My mum should be here to pick me up shortly…”

 

Eagerly grabbing at the bait, I said, “I’ll walk you to the door.” We stood up, still holding hands, and headed upstairs. I was grateful to be away from all the noise. We stood at the door while we waited and muttered a bit about the movie until his mum arrived. Without hesitation or any words between us, we hugged each other and I saw him out. I stayed upstairs for a few more minutes, texting my parents to come and get me. When I got my answer, I went back downstairs to say goodbye to everyone.

 

I went to his house more often than he came to mine after that for numerous reasons. It was easier to go to his house and be us because no one judged us for holding hands or for being cuddled up on the couch together as we watched TV. Whereas, when he came to my house and we did the same, my parents would hit me with a barrage of questions as soon as he was out the door. The stress level at home had skyrocketed and I couldn’t handle it.

 

It was hard for me to be able to date him when my parents disapproved so very much. I felt suffocated and disappointed and my fits became more frequent. I even threw a few while at John’s house over almost nothing. The first time it happened, he seemed quite startled. I had just arrived at his house and all my anxious and frustrated feelings were still simmering close to the surface as we sat down and tried to pick something to watch. Abruptly, I screamed at him that I did not want to watch anything that we’d seen. He leaned back, stunned for a moment, as I scathingly told him how boring it was to simply sit and watch TV every time we were together and I wanted to do something different, somewhere other than the living room because everything was the same.

 

He waited for me to calm down before agreeing and he took me to the backyard where we sat on the grass in silence for a few minutes. After a bit, I sheepishly apologised for the tantrum. He simply smiled at me and told me that it was nice to get out of the living room anyway.

 

After the third time it happened, in front of his parents, I felt the need to explain myself. I was afraid he’d decide that I was too much and would be too difficult. He only assured me that it was just part of who I was and it made me more interesting. His expression held nothing but realisation and a sort of understanding.

 

It was about that point that I realised I may actually be in love with John Watson.

 

~~

 

During the next few months, we spent more time together and when we couldn’t get together, we were texting each other. There were nights where I spent a few hours before falling asleep just sending him mindless messages because he asked me to -- he told me that it reminded him that I cared. But of course I cared. I cared more than I thought possible.

 

Greg had found a girl he liked, someone named Molly, and he spent a lot of his time with her. I didn’t mind, normally. Until Greg mentioned a double-date. The idea made me a bit nervous but after asking John if he’d be interested, we all set up a time and a place. My mother was the one taking us as she happened to be the most willing. We ended up going to an amusement park nearby. Greg and I paid, ignoring the whining and complaining of our partners.

 

To me, what we did was rather unimportant. I know we went on a few rides and played some laser tag. We all went racing on the mini-track, as well. While waiting in line, I noticed Greg holding Molly from behind and was struck with the desire to show off for everyone around us, wanting to show everyone that we were together and unashamed, and that John was indeed mine. Mimicking Greg’s position, I wrapped my arms around John who simply squeaked in surprise before resting his hands on my arms.

 

For me, this was the most important and, possibly, the most damning of all the things I had done while we were together.

 

Our relationship had made a definite turn after that date and I no longer denied our status to anyone who asked. Things were looking particularly positive for a few months after that. Being around John made me feel better. He, in a way, managed to contain the storm that was my mind. Now that I was no longer hiding our relationship, my stress levels decreased dramatically and I found that I was throwing fewer fits. He complied to my request to schedule things down to perfection, doing his best to understand that it made things easier for me. I was thrilled with the possibilities of what our future could be together.

 

But it was very suddenly derailed when I got a fantastically stupid idea. I was in my room one night, sitting on my computer, trying to get some homework done, when I happened to look at the cubby on my desk. In it held one of my old cell phones. Feeling oddly nostalgic, I decided to turn it on and flip through old messages. One of the many conversations was with a friend I had once had, someone I had met only once in real life and had left behind without so much as a “goodbye”. Since we had stopped talking, I had become intensely curious to know if he remembered me, years later. Victor, was his name.

 

Tapping absently on the desk, I pulled out my current phone and typed in his number. Debating for a moment, I decided it couldn’t hurt, and sent him a message telling him who I was. I fully expected it to be some stranger or to get a message telling me that the number no longer existed. What I did not expect was for him to actually message me back, as nonchalant as ever. I almost fell out of my chair in surprise.

 

It was the biggest mistake I had made yet.

 

Talking with Victor sent me in a spiral. I found myself becoming a bit more obsessed with my schedules and John was being set on a back burner. But it wasn’t until I got to video-chat with Victor that I met my demise. He flirted with me through our entire conversation and I found myself shamelessly reciprocating. In the illusion, I was sure that things between us would spark this time and I needed to let John go.

 

In a moment of absolute cowardice, I wrote him a letter telling him that he meant the world to me but that I was not ready to continue our relationship. I told him that I was afraid I did not really know myself nor did I have the confidence to be what he needed. It was after a movie night with a few friends at his house that I gave him the letter. Perhaps it would be noteworthy to know that he had been broken up with several times this way and he had, indeed, told me as much.

 

I was at Greg’s house a few days later when Greg found out what I’d done and he exploded. “You’re a completely insensitive moron, Sherlock! How could you do that to him? You knew! _You knew_ how badly that would hurt him! There’s no excuse for this. Call him. Right now! Apologise! You’re so stupid! Where do you think things with Victor would go, anyway? He lives halfway across the country! Were you somehow going to move there to be with him? God, I can’t believe you. You destroyed something good for you and I won’t blame him if he hates you forever.”

 

I felt like utter shit when he was done ranting at me, thrusting his home phone into my hands. Despondently, I accepted it and called John. He answered after a full minute. “John, I…” I thought I would actually cry. Greg stood over me, glaring down at me with his arms crossed. I stared at the floor instead of him. “I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I was scared and stupid and… I was chasing an old fantasy.” It was true. When I had first met Victor, I had daydreamed over and over about a nonexistent future together. The moment he had replied to me, I had fallen back into the dream with more force than I could have ever imagined. “I’m so sorry.”

 

I was met with silence for a moment before he said, “Yeah, you were being stupid… It really hurt, Sherlock…” There was a hesitation before he added, “I thought you’d be different, better somehow.”

 

And that was the most crushing thing he could have said. “I wish I were better for you…” I muttered, hiding my face in my free hand as it burned with shame.

 

“I’m going to have to get back to you on that apology,” he replied after a bit, as if he were hoping that I’d say something else. I couldn’t think of anything else to say, and definitely nothing that would make it any better. “I’m not too keen on it right now and I’m hoping it’ll change.”

 

Swallowing around the lump in my throat, I answered, “Yes, of course. I understand…” We said our goodbyes and I sat there for awhile, feeling exhausted as Greg sighed and went upstairs to find something for him to eat. I felt like there was some sort of black hole in my chest, threatening to consume me. Shame and guilt battled in their attempt to drown me. I wanted to feel exactly none of it.

 

The next few weeks were difficult for me. I wouldn’t talk to anyone and waited patiently with my phone nearby as I waited for _something_ from John. It took almost a month before he called me one night. “I’ve decided,” he told me, “that I can’t forgive what you did but I accept your apology.” I gripped my phone tightly and laid on my bed. I tried to find something to say to express my relief, tell him how glad I was. It wasn’t perfect but it was a step. “Did you mean what you said, though? About not being ready for us to be in a relationship?”

 

“Yes and no,” I answered immediately, wanting to fix things as best I could. “I’m not sure I can be everything you need or desire. But I want to try. I was hasty and chasing a long lost daydream… I’m afraid I won’t be what you think I should be.”

 

He laughed, an actual laugh and not something forced or awkward. “You’re the biggest idiot I’ve ever known, Sherlock. Really now. I thought we got past that a year ago. You’re unique. I don’t want you in a cookie-cutter mold. I never have. Not as a friend nor as my boyfriend. You’re too different to be able to pull it off.”

 

I could see why he would laugh now. “That’s not what everyone would think… I’m not used to that idea…” I realised how comforted I was simply listening to his words, his voice, his tones. I had felt so detached since first getting back into contact with Victor. Quietly, I admitted, “You’ve helped me, John. A lot. I feel different around you. A good different. Even if we’re just friends for the rest of our lives, will you please not leave me behind?” The echo of the promise I’d made for him when we’d first met slipped from my lips before I’d fully thought about it.

 

Before I could take the words back, though, he softly answered, “I promise, as long as you need or want my company, I’ll always be there, Sherlock…”

 

**

 

“What are you doing, Sher?” John asks as I pause with my hands over the keyboard of my laptop.

 

I crane my neck back to look at John who is leaning over the back of my chair, resting his hands on my shoulders. “You can’t read it. It’s my speech for the wedding,” I tell him obstinately, lowering the screen so he can’t see the words.

 

John chuckles, draping his arms over my chest as he kisses my cheek. “I wasn’t going to read it. I was just curious. You’ve been working on it all day. And you do know that you’re not actually required to say anything, right?”

 

Sniffing, I say, “Yes, I know. But I thought that people would like to hear our story. It’s very ordinary, you know. Wouldn’t it shock them to think that I had an ordinary story to tell?”

 

“You’ve got a novel written there,” John laughs, pulling back and sitting on the coffee table. “‘The Great Sherlock Holmes -- Ordinary Love Story’. I’d like to see that headline.” Something in my expression must have been more obvious than I’d anticipated because he laughs harder before amending, “It’s just a joke. You know, it wasn’t all that ordinary or boring. It’s very our style.”

 

“It’s very ordinary compared to the stories I _could_ be telling,” I inform him haughtily, snapping the computer shut and tucking it into the seat beside me. “But it’s my favourite story…”

 

He practically melts as he climbs into my lap. “It’s mine, too…” We share a few soft kisses, simply basking in each other’s presence. “I am still sorry, you know,” I mutter abruptly and he looks at me in confusion. “About the letter thing…”

 

John snorts, his blue eyes sparkling. “You know, I threw it away.” I blink up at him in surprise. “Yeah, it made me depressed every time I saw it and we’d resolved things between us anyway. I didn’t see the point in keeping something like that. I mean, the whole experience helped us grow. I don’t think we would have made the progress we did if you hadn’t done it. It showed us how much we relied on each other and what we actually meant to the other. I think, anyway…”

 

I bite my lower lip and pull him close, wanting to just anchor myself to him. “You’re far too good for me,” I grumble, meaning to sound more upset by this than I really am. “I love you, John.”

  
“I love you, too, you big goofball,” John replies lightly, nuzzling my neck. “So tell me about that case we were supposed to be working on before you got on with that speech of yours…”

**Author's Note:**

> I know that I have a few to many mistakes in here, including the fact that I am 90% sure that there is no dinosaur museum anywhere near where they live. But I ignored it for a specific reason. That reason being: up to a certain point, this is the history of my friendship with Keroanne. Although, since this is her birthday present, I got to play with the plot a little bit and rounded it off with her favourite pairing. I used the opportunity to attempt an autistic!Sherlock and I know that I didn’t do as great a job as I wish I could. 
> 
> (On a side note: the extent of my knowledge of autism is really based on what I understood of my nephew and one of my niece’s friends. My nephew was on the no-boundary side of the spectrum while my niece’s friend was on the non-communicative side of the spectrum. My nephew was extremely outgoing, cheerful, obsessive, OCD, ADD, and struggled with social cues. You were no longer considered a stranger if you knew each other’s names, in his mind. He needed schedules or everything became too much for him; he had a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with no crust almost every day for lunch. If he had to “be good” for too long, he would more than likely break down into a fit. As for my niece’s friend, I don’t know as much. She only trusted certain people and verbally communicated with an even smaller amount of people, those normally being just her older sister and my niece. She was shy and, from what my niece said, rather stubborn -- if she wanted to play dolls that day, then you were going to play dolls. So while my knowledge might be lacking a bit, I did my best to stay in the realm that I did understand and try to communicate it as best as possible, from what I can only imagine goes on in their heads. I apologise if I was too far-fetched and I mean no offense to anyone who is or knows someone with autism. They are very special people and I would never change who my nephew is.)
> 
> The point of the majority of the story was not to be correct. I even fudged a bit on the actual timeline. What I wanted to show Keroanne from this is basically what I was feeling through that time. Especially that promise. To this day, I haven’t forgotten it nor have I officially broken it -- though I have come close a few times. While I don’t regret that we are now only friends -- best friends -- I do regret how it came about. I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything in the world, if I were asked. I’m glad to have such an amazing friend with such an amazing heart. 
> 
> Happy Birthday, Kero. You’ve made it another year. What’s another twenty more? :) <3
> 
> Thank-you for reading and I hope you enjoyed this as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please leave any thoughts or comments behind if you feel so inclined, but please also refrain from being super negative. Thank-you so much!!


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